Miles from where you are
by Hand-print-on-my-shoulder
Summary: In high school, Dean and Cas were quite the item, until Castiel walked in on the family secret; that Dean and his brother were sleeping together. Heartbroken, he fled, and all went their separate ways. Now, ten years later, the three men are forced to face each other and their past during eight days of reunion in their home town. AU, eventual Sam/Dean/Cas i.e. Wincestiel threesome.


**Author's Notes: **First off, I had to change a couple of things to make this AU work; Sam is two years younger than Dean, not four, because that would just be a little too disgusting to work with, as well as improbable to fit them all in the same year of high school. Castiel is the same age as Dean. Also, random angels I want Castiel related to are now Novaks. Sorry. Lastly, I know nothing about Lawrence and any of their actual festivities, so despite research into small town founders' day things, I really made most of this up off the top of my head. Hope you guys enjoy it anyways! I'll be posting more as I write it.

**Day 01: Reunion**

They stood in the back, the Winchester boys, the ones everyone in town knew. Both tall, one more than the other, both strong and rangy, worn with the years. Green eyes scanned the room as the eldest sipped his beer, silent and buzzing with energy, sharp and jagged as glass. Ten-year reunions, what a crock of bullshit, but in this little town, you went, or else. Well, he was enjoying watching some of his old 'peers' drag themselves in over the threshold an hour or so after leaving a job at the gas station, the post office. Dean had his best jeans on and the dark blue t-shirt with Kansas City Fire Department logo embroidered in yellow on the breast pocket; beyond that, people could fucking ask.

Sam was in one of his nice suits, because what was the point of being a fancy lawyer unless you looked the part. Hands in his pockets, leaning back on the table, he watched the rooms few occupants move around, blue-green eyes flat and irritable at being back. Most days, Sam didn't show his face in Lawrence, but Ellen had threatened to make them take Jo to the prom if he didn't for this, and that wasn't something either brother wanted to think about. The reunion itself was meh, whatever, but it fell during the yearly town festival and gave everyone an excuse to catch up and enjoy themselves for a week.

But even with seven days of home cooking, familiar faces, and admiring looks from people who'd last seen you as a snot-nosed brat and hadn't thought you'd ever be anything else- even still, the reunion at the high school was a bitter pill to swallow. Mostly for who might be there, than who had already showed. Sam cast a thin glance sideways, taking measure of his brother's profile. Hard, closed off, eyes blank and bored as he sipped a beer. It was hard to read him now, had been for the last decade, since Dean had so forcefully cut off their contact. Because of _him_. The one they'd both broken together.

Castiel Novak.

"So, you think he'll show?" Breaking the taboo of their silence on the subject, blue-flecked gold eyes sliding over to his brother, Sam asked quietly and almost with the hushed tone of speaking in a church.

Perhaps it was the timid way his usually aggressive brother brought it up, or maybe the jovial, reckless edge had him in a mood to claw at old wounds, but for once, Dean did not snap and snarl, did not slam the door shut on the topic. "There's no way he'd come," he said, words spit-slick and bitterly amused around the rim of the beer bottle.

And then. _Speak of the devil_, he thought as the man whose name he hadn't said in ten years sauntered into the room. Without a word, Dean put down the bottle and walked away from the table, from Sam, to see if anyone needed help in the back. Biting down on the inside of his cheek, Sam swallowed the taste of bitterness in his mouth and headed over to say hello.

It was a bitter, jaded satisfaction to walk into the faded auditorium, ten years and two weeks to the day since he'd last left it. A gawky, humiliated, frustrated kid back then, with the best grades in every class, and the worst memories. He'd walked out to the sickening thrum of laughter, face red, head bowed, fists impotently clenched at his sides.

There hadn't been a drastic enough change to expect people to not recognize him; after all, he still had the same dark hair, shorter and nearly black now, not bleached to brown by the sun. Still had the distinctive sapphire blue eyes, but they didn't shine as wide and innocent as they used to. Ten years was a long time. His clean-shaven face had a hint of dark stubble around the jaw and mouth, something that suited the bones of his face and brought his eyes into sharp relief.

That perpetually skinny body had been toned by years of martial arts training, fitting lean and graceful under the three-piece, deep blue silk suit he'd selected for this touching little reunion. The eyes formerly kept low in shame now slanted cold and burning blue across the room, challenging, aggressive. Castiel had walked out like he'd rather be running, but he walked back in with a prowl that said he could own the entire place by morning if he wanted to- technically, he could, but he didn't trust his vindictive nature not to raze it to the ground.

The first person who Castiel saw after greeting his teachers- older, now, and gratifyingly shocked to see the man he'd grown into- was somehow, of course, Sam Winchester. Naturally, he thought with a slow, hard smile. It would of course be the man he walked in on fucking his boyfriend who came forward to greet him first. Some people caught like that might be more cowardly, even avoid him entirely, but the Winchesters were not cowards, even if they were many, many other things.

"Sam," Castiel said, holding out a hand and shaking the massive one he was given. "Goddamn, you got big." Eyeing the height and breadth of him, weighing it against his last memory of a well-built but lean boy, he shook his head. Dean must love having this monster on top of him.

The standard handshake, both grips tight, and Sam's eyebrows rose at the oddly familiar, casual greeting. As if everything was normal, like there were no hard feelings in this man after Sam had deliberately ruined his life. Oh, but those eyes burned with cold, cold fire, and he felt something twist and shiver down his spine. The boy who'd run out of Dean's apartment, stricken and disgusted- where had he gone? There was no finding him in the confident man who walked like a panther and purred in a rough, melodic voice, a hostile smile lurking at the corner of chapped, fuckable lips. Sam has always hated those lips for how perfect they looked. Now he found himself staring a moment too long, forgetting to let go of the lean hand in his.

Cocking one black brow, Castiel slowly grinned, a Cheshire cat that got it's prize. Leaning in, he rasped quietly, "Are you alright,Sam? Too nervous without big brother here to protect you, or just forgot how pretty I was?" Tilting his head, eyes cold, he pondered out loud, quiet and curious, "I wonder, if I pushed my tongue into your mouth, if I'd taste Dean there from this morning."

Choking on his own tongue- when the fuck had that shy kid turned out like this?- Sam yanked his hand away, eyes to the side, jaw tight. "Not likely," he growled quietly, mouth opening to elaborate with, "Dean and I-"

"Sam." One word, but it was a command for silence, and the younger brother obeyed immediately, mouth closing, eyes dropping to the floor. Not looking at his brother, Dean walked slowly forward, until he was the polite distance required for a greeting, and looked his ex in the eye. "Hey, Cas. Been a while." Unspoken, their last meeting hung in the air, a sickening reek of old heartache and bitter memories.

Castiel found himself staring despite swearing he wouldn't; it was hard not to. Dean was so… different. It was a surprise to see him like this, walking with a heaviness to his movements, as if a weight pressed on him at every point of articulation in his skeletal mass; certainly he'd gotten more muscular as well, to correspond with the idea. The pretty faced had hardened, lean still but stronger in the jaw, sharper and more brittle in the eyes. No more the flash of wildfire, joyous and free and young; this was metal, the tempered weight of a blade, the stance of someone who commanded the room even while wanting to escape from it. And those eyes, those beautiful green eyes that had shown him the man's soul time and time again- they were dark and jaded, brittle circles of stone that would chip away in flint-sharp sparks.

"Hello, Dean," he answered finally, a weight to the words that hadn't been present before. Memories, yes, and the flickering shadows that remained of what he'd once thought was a profound bond. Now it was nothing but dust on their shoulders, dirt from the past that walked with them, pinning them down. "It has been a very long time."

Dean's voice was as flat and dead as his expression. "Not long enough, apparently, if we're still pissing in each other's cornflakes. Listen, I don't know why you showed up here- not like you have any reason to want to remember this place- but you're here, and so are we, and we're adults that can play nice for one fucking week, alright? No big scenes, no scandalous exposé, just let people have their fun and we can all fuck off back to where we belong. As far they know-" this with a slight wave to the crowd gathered at the edge of the auditorium, teachers and old students, most of whom had no idea the Winchesters and Novaks had ever had trouble. "-we're fine. And it's gonna stay that way."

Castiel tilted his head to the side, puzzled, and for a moment the breath caught in Dean's chest at how familiar the motion was, even if the sardonic expression was new. "Oh, really? Technically you're in no position to demand anything from me, you realize. Last I checked, I make more money than both of you combined, and if I wanted to ruin everything with a massive social bomb, I'd be within my rights as the wronged party." Then a wide smile split his face, one that did not warm the cobalt eyes. "I won't, of course. It would be pathetic to hold on to a grudge after a decade, after all. Having moved on to bigger, better things, I really don't care about either of you, or what happened the last time we met."

Having held his tongue long enough, Sam spoke up then, eyes surprised and, perhaps, a little hopeful as he asked, "You mean, you've forgiven us for…?"

Without turning his head from facing Dean, Castiel's eyes slid to the side, to pin Sam on their cold blue surfaces. "You can't be that stupid if you've got a law degree, Sam. Forgiveness isn't on the table. Think of this as playing pretend- making nice for the crowd, like your big brother said." A horribly malicious smile curved that soft mouth for a moment. "After all, you always do what your brother wants, don't you, Sammy?" Before either of them could speak, Castiel stepped back, head tipping, before he walked away. Leaving them both thrumming with tension and no one to take it out on but each other.

Which they wouldn't, Sam thought bitterly as Dean turned and stalked to the other side of the room, leaving him alone again. They hadn't turned to each other for anything, either in comfort or anger, in ten long years. Not since the day they'd broken a blue-eyed boy's heart on accident and Dean chosen him over his brother. Not that it mattered now, all of that was dead and gone. They just had to deal with the scars pulling for the next eight days, and it would be over for another decade or more.

The rest of the reunion went by slowly, but it went, on into the night. It wasn't all bad, at least for Sam. There were some people he'd enjoyed catching up with, even to endure the teasing about how, being advanced through his classes, and having his brother drop down a grade from rebellious bullshit, he'd managed to go through high school in the same years as his brother, two years older. And hadn't that been a picnic, a feather in his cap, they said sly and glinting, as if it had always been his dream to surpass his brother. It made him sick to his stomach, excusing himself to the bathroom to wash the sweat and nausea off his skin. Staring at himself in the mirror, alone for the moment, he let the weight show on his face for a minute, broad shoulders sagging under the fine cut of his suit. He'd never wanted to undermine his brother, to put him to shame the way everyone seemed to think. The way even Dean thought sometimes, when he compared their careers.

All Sam had wanted was to be equal, to stand at his side and know they were inseparable, that no matter who or what came through their lives, the bond they had would still come first. He'd had it, too, for two glorious years. It had been perfect, at least to him; even if Dean refused to allow any public displays of affection, knowing their town wasn't so small that it would bother trying to drive a gay couple out, but certainly was small enough to get its panties in a twist over two gay brothers who were sleeping with each other. Even still, they'd had their private times, and it had been amazing.

Until Castiel had transferred to their school in the middle of sophomore year, slender and pretty, and so fucking awkward it was hard to even talk to him for most people. He'd been well on his way to being a social outcast when Sam had pulled his brother over to the kid's table, sat them both down, and started talking about the most random thing he could think of. It had been awkward, at first- Dean was bored, restless, Castiel was nervous and his big blue eyes almost fell out of his skull at two of the best-looking and popular guys in the school trying to engage him in conversation. It was almost a bust, entirely, until Dean decided to actually bother getting involved, and started teasing the kid. Light stuff, nothing mean, just little jokes and knowing smiles that, strangely, had relaxed the boy completely. They'd sat together again the next day, again by Sam's decision; the day after, Dean took them over. By the next week, the three just tended to find each other wherever one was sitting, and join in.

Sam hung his head, splashing more water in his face, like that would help. He'd started the whole thing. Sure, he'd had no idea that it would go beyond that, making an awesome new friend and having someone to share meals with. He hadn't expected or known quite what to do with the way Castiel and Dean took to staring at one another, without words, and more intently than made sense for two people who just met. He hadn't cared, either, even when Dean started getting a little more flirtatious and Castiel had let him, very quietly stating out of the blue that he found him attractive, and then apologizing for the social blunder.

Weirdly, Sam hadn't even cared when they started dating, because really, it was not the first time Dean had pursued someone other than him. It wasn't a threat, just a normal thing; he had shrugged it off, teased them, enjoyed watching the blushing and flirting escalate.

He'd watched their first kiss, he remembered. They'd all been down at the lake, enjoying the early morning sunshine on a Saturday where everyone else was sleeping in. He sat on the edge of the blanket, breathless and warm in his guts, as he watched Dean lean forward and brush his mouth softly over the other boy's. Castiel's bright blue eyes had gone so wide it hurt to look at, and he blushed, but didn't pull away. After a terribly long pause, when Dean was just about to pull back and apologize, the dark-haired boy had leaned in and kissed him back. Thoroughly, if without a great deal of experience. Leaving Sam flushed and half hard in his baggy jeans, resulting in a forced laugh and tossing a piece of bread at them to break it up.

Sam hadn't been upset, though, not even a little. He'd been happy. Seeing them together, in the first flush of puppy love, had made him ridiculously happy. He'd known Dean still loved him the most, and as long as he had that, everything was fine. But then…

Someone pushed open the bathroom door, interrupting his reverie. Schooling his face back into the socially acceptable mask, he nodded to the man whose name he didn't remember and left the bathroom. This night could not end fast enough.


End file.
